The clock on the mantle read 5:20 when Buffy and Xander finally got home. Some of the gouges on her back had required stitches, and Xander's hand had been stitched back together and wrapped up until it looked like he had a football on the end of his arm. The doctor had wanted to keep them, but they insisted on going home.
No one at Sunnydale Memorial had believed they were attacked by a large wild dog. But then again, Xander thought, they didn't want to know what had really happened, either.
Giles had come to the hospital to drive them home. He dropped them at the door silently, without even an admonition to get some rest. Xander was grateful. He and Buffy needed to talk. Angel had slipped away after helping them stagger to the hospital.
Silently, they climbed the stairs to their room. Once it had been Joyce's, then Tara and Willow's. When the witches had moved back into the dorm, it became theirs.
They sat down on the bed, next to each other, but not touching.
"How's your arm?" Buffy asked, not looking up from her study of the floor.
"Hurts. How's your back?" Xander asked. He was studying the ceiling.
"Hurts. But Slayer healing is kicking in, I think." There was a long silence. "Why'd you come out tonight?"
"Ever since Mexico, you haven't wanted me to patrol with you. I know what happened there; I know what I liability I am," Xander said. He raised his wrapped arm. "Just more proof, I guess."
Buffy was staring at him now, instead of the floor.
"But I also know that someday….someday I may lose you. Slayers don't live long, Buffy," he said. His voice broke. "If I'm with you, maybe I can help you beat the odds. Maybe you can be the first Slayer to see her kids grow up, to see grandkids."
"Xander. Xander, I don't know what to say. You're not a liability. You probably saved me tonight, just like you saved me in Mexico," Buffy said. She took his uninjured hand.
"Yeah, and you've saved me a million times more," Xander said. He still refused to look at her, refused to relax his hand into hers.
"I didn't know we were counting," she said tartly. "Maybe we should make a chart, do you think? A bar chart, of who saved who more. We could put Willow on there, and Giles, and Tara, and see who comes out on top.
"Xander, I haven't wanted you to patrol with me because I can't bear to see you hurt," she said quietly. She ducked her head to look into his face, grabbing his chin when he tried to look away. "You said that Slayers don't live long. You're right. I'm selfish. I want to keep you alive for as long as I live. Whether that's days, or months, or years. I want to know you're here for me when I'm out there."
Xander looked into her eyes. "But don't you see, Buffy? I can't be here waiting for you, not knowing if you're coming back. Because if you die out there and I could have done anything to prevent it, I'll die too. And I can't stand the only time we have together being sex at 2 a.m."
Buffy's eyes filled with tears.
"God, Buffy, I don't want to hurt you," he said. Carefully, he wrapped her in his uninjured arm, avoiding the bandages on her back.
"I know you don't," she murmured into his chest.
"We'll make a deal then, huh? I patrol with you."
She shrugged, then grunted when the movement reminded her of her flayed back.
"Is that a yes or a no?" Xander demanded.
She pulled back from his chest. "It's an 'I don't know,' Xander, because I don't."
"You know as well as I do that what we're doing now isn't working," he said.
"You're right. But I'm not sure patrolling together is the answer."
"Then what is, Buffy? Tell me what is?" His voice was anguished, and he knew it.
"I don't know, Xander. But we will figure this out. I swear we will. We are forever." She threw her arms around him and he stroked her hair gently.
"Forever is a long time, Buffy," he murmured into her hair. A very long time, he thought to himself. They sat together on the bed, holding each other, as the sun came up and life went on in the world outside their room.